The Indian Odyssey of Michael and Nix

Last night was interesting. Our toilet became blocked. We couldn’t leave it till the next day to be fixed as any water going down from the tap or shower was filling it dangerously close to overflowing all over the floor. So Nix asked one of the guys working here to take a look. He came into the room with a homemade very dodgy looking dynorod. We looked at each other – this was not going to work. Sure enough, it didn’t. His DIY dynorod broke off in the toilet. He then threw in a couple of buckets of water for reasons known only to himself which made the toilet flow out all over the floor – exactly what we had been hoping to avoid. His next course of action was to plunge his arm up to the shoulder down the toilet to fish around for the broken dynorod. This was one step too far on the aversion scale for me - there was no way I was into staying in this room tonight so asked the manager to swap rooms. He offered us a room right next to the communal TV which was blaring out Tollywood action drivel at full blast. I motioned that we’d rather not be next to the noisy TV all night so asked for a room further away. We went into a room slightly further away from the TV but the door on this one did not lock. So I asked for another. He shook his head, came into the room shoulder barged and kicked the door shut to lock it and wobbled his head encouragingly. This wasn’t going to work either. I asked him to open it again, and as I thought, he had difficulty doing so having forced it closed. Then the power went out. Nice timing. This evening was not flowing for us (ironic that the toilet was, all across our floor). The manager’s English is non-existent, as is my Tamil – so communicating all this was easier said than done. He wasn’t getting me at all and I could feel tensions rising in both of us, so I walked down the corridor with my phone torch beckoning him to follow me and pointed at the empty room furthest away from the TV. I checked the door and it locked. I gave the universal thumbs up signal and wobbled my head manically. He understood me this time, we breathed a sigh of relief and got to work moving all our things over. We are now situated next door to a Saddhu. We’re hoping some of his good vibes will rub off on the increasingly noisy and frenzied guesthouse. This morning crowds of Indian guests arrived and he ambient decibel level rose dramatically. Amma’s ashram was good training for coping with this. We paid the manager for the remaining couple of days we will be here, and Nix asked him if he had found the picture of Amma that she had accidentally left behind during the power cut/move from our original room. He started to freak out in Tamil big time. We had no idea what was going on. I had a feeling he might be having a nervous breakdown. There was another guy nearby who spoke a little bit of English who we used as a translator of sorts to get him to calm down. Language barriers had clearly led to total misunderstanding again.... I think he thought we were asking him to move rooms one more time. I’m quite chuffed with myself as I didn’t react angrily back to him, which has been my modus operandi in times past. Instead, we smiled at him, told him that is not what we wanted and that he shouldn’t worry, paid him the money, let go of the Amma picture story and left to get something to eat. We missioned around town looking for suitable rooftops to get an aerial view of the Sri Meenakshi temple. All the while we dodged the gamut of touts that inundate the area. One guy started his “get to know us” sales pitch but Nix stopped him in his tracks, and said “Let me guess, you’re a tailor?” He nodded his head. The Great Tamil Tailor Scam strikes again.... We climbed the stairs of a couple of office buildings and business premises but had no luck. It seems that rooftop access has been banned for everyone except a government handicraft building near the North Gate. From what I understand building owners will get in shit from the authorities if they break this decree. Bummer. Apparently viewing was much easier in years past, but a suicide in the temple (an Indian couple jumped from one of the towers) caused the government to withdraw all access rights. We tried the government handicraft building but it does not offer a decent view at all (although we almost bought a Kashmiri carpet ;)).... On our way home I took a detour to get my head shaved. I found a shop called “Gent’s Beauty Parlour”, walked in, and confirmed the price before taking a seat. The barber sprayed my head, face and neck with water then started to “massage” it in. He had me by the throat in such a violent manner that I wondered if I’d inadvertently put myself in the firing line of the Tamil version of Sweeney Todd. I kept telling myself to relax.... He took “clean, clean” to another level. He shaved my head once, then went over it two more times with the cutthroat razor just to be sure. “Ah dust!” he exclaimed as he showed me layers of skin that he had scraped from my scalp. Just relax Michael, relax.... He turned the razor to my throat and did the same thing. I kept one eye open and on him at all times. The razor moved its way from my scalp to my forehead, nose, ears, inner ears and nostrils. I can tell you with hand on heart that a razor scraping roughly over those areas is not a pleasant experience. At one point I thought he was going to take my eyebrows off. When he moved away I saw in the mirror that blood had been drawn from multiple areas. I felt like a Bombay Bitch Slap ™ was coming on. He reached for a large bottle of Old Spice and before I had time to say otherwise threw it all over my head, face and neck. Christ! My skin felt like it had been set on fire. He wobbled his head and asked me if I wanted a facial. Erm, thanks but no. It occurred to me that if this guy was a hairdresser in the UK he would be up for assault charges. I quickly paid him and ran. I couldn’t get out of the shop fast enough.

Loving your stories, had to laugh at the toilet one, ours became blocked on Xmas eve and we couldn't get a plumber in until the 2nd, needless to say it felt like we were at a Blackmans Bay festival, thank goodness for the Ron's adaptibility to situations he erected an outdoor toilet(dunny as the Aussies call it) and it was the best long drop I ever used, even the dog thought so as he was having a feast on all our shits niiiiiiiiice...